


If I Could Do It All Again (I Shouldn't Still Want This)

by ChronicTonsillitis



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drunk!Clarke, Exes, F/M, Injured!Clarke, Slow Burn, bro!Murphy, drunk!bellamy, emt clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicTonsillitis/pseuds/ChronicTonsillitis
Summary: One brown eye opened blearily from where his face was pressed against the toilet seat, then closed again in a second.She shook him more firmly. “Come on, Bellamy, I know you’re awake.”He lifted his head slightly, fully opening his eyes. Bellamy gazed balefully straight at her. Clarke stared back.Bellamy grumbled and lowered his head back down. “You’re not here.”*********Clarke and Bellamy had a thing, until they didn't. But it's their senior year of college and they can’t seem to stop running into each other, so maybe he'll stop being shitty and maybe she'll forgive him. Stranger things have happened.





	1. Chapter 1

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

Clarke glanced sideways past Zeke at the dark head slumped over the toilet. “Did you consider that Campus Safety might be better equipped than I am?”

He shrugged. “Safety will just call an ambulance and I don’t know if he has insurance. You’re an EMT right?”

She was. Clarke had spent the last two years volunteering at the local ambulance company, packing her resume for med school, and in that time she’d seen her fair share of crazy shit, so really a drunk person shouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah but—“

“Plus you know him, right? You were both on the same freshman hall as Raven.”

Clarke sighed heavily. Zeke had transferred junior year so she guessed he didn’t know quite how loaded that question was.

“I used to.”

Steeling herself, Clarke pushed fully into the stall, coming to stand over the toilet and its current resident. She looked back at Zeke, still leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Do you know how much he had to drink? Or when?”

He shrugged again. “No idea. I came in here to take a piss before going out and found him. I called you right after.”

“Great,” Clarke muttered under her breath. “You can go if you want to, I can take it from here.”

“Thanks, Clarke.” Zeke smiled gratefully, pushing off the doorway. “He’s real lucky to have a friend like you.”

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. “We’re not—“

The thump of the door swinging shut cut her off and she slowly let out the air she had taken in.“Friends,” she finished quietly.

Turning her attention back to her patient, she rolled her small medical bag off her shoulder and squatted down beside the toilet.

Tentatively, Clarke reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. “Bellamy? You gotta wake up now.”

One brown eye opened blearily from where his face was pressed against the toilet seat, then closed again in a second.

She shook him more firmly. “Come on, Bellamy, I know you’re awake.”

Blindly, he reached up and laced his fingers tightly around her wrist, stilling her. He mumbled something unintelligible.

Clarke leaned closer and tried not to focus on the way his rough fingers felt on her skin. “What was that?”

He lifted his head slightly from the toilet seat, fully opening his eyes. Bellamy gazed balefully straight at her. Clarke stared back.

Bellamy grumbled and lowered his head back down, releasing her wrist and closing his eyes again. “You’re not here.”

Clarke sighed. “Sorry, buddy, I wish I wasn’t either,” she replied, and reached out to take his wrist, finding his pulse. It was strong, but slow. “How much did you drink?”

He did his best impression of a shrug. “Some.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Did you throw up?”

He grunted affirmatively.

She gently reached out and pushed his hair back from his face. “Do you think you’re gonna throw up again?”

Bellamy shook his head and Clarke retracted her hand, mentally cursing herself.

“You’re not here,” he said again.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again and sat back against the side of the stall, leaning her head up against the plastic.

“Well if I’m not here, where am I then?”

She could hear him shifting slightly, but she kept her gaze up, silently counting the ceiling tiles.

“You’re at a party,” Bellamy mumbled. “You’re at a party, and you’re dancing with your friends, with what’s-her-name, that girl you’re with. And you’re happy.”

Clarke looked at him curiously. “What’s-her-name? Who’s that?”

He cracked an eye open again briefly. 

“You know who I mean,” he said petulantly. “What’s-her-name. With the dark hair and the, like, leather and stuff.”

“I honestly have no idea who you’re talking about.” 

Clarke wracked her brain for who he could possibly be referring to but drew a blank. She hadn’t been with anyone lately, let alone anyone Bellamy would’ve seen her with.

“The short one. I saw you kiss her hair.” His voice was awfully accusing for someone she hadn’t spoken to for over a year.

“I have no idea who that—“ she stopped short. “Wait, Madi?!” 

He shrugged impassively.

“Ew, Bellamy. Madi is one my freshman orientees. She’s like my kid.”

Clarke pushed herself up off the ground and wipes her hands on her pants. She could feel anger bubbling up inside her and she tamped down on it, going to lean up against the counter, facing away from him. 

She had left the stall door open and she could see the reflection of Bellamy in the mirror, his face still pressed against the toilet seat and his legs sprawled out into the stall next to him.

“What I do is none of your business, okay?” She reminded him quietly.

Bellamy grumbled noncommittally in reply.

“Bellamy.” Her voice was sharp, shaper than she intended. It had been years, but he was still a sore spot for her.

“Murphy said you were happy.” 

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, and?”

“That’s good,” Bellamy mumbled. “That’s really good. I want you to be happy.”

Clarke spun to face him. He opened his eyes and looked at her lazily, a small smile cracking across his face. Her expression hardened.

Clarke opened her mouth to say something cutting but was stopped by the appearance of a group of giggling girls bursting through the door. She glared at them, pushing herself up to sit on the counter with her back against the mirror.

One of them went to use the stall next to Bellamy but found his legs intruding on the space. Clarke snorted. 

“Try the third one down.” 

The girl nodded gratefully. Clarke waited as she did her business, quickly washing her hands and collecting her friends. They burst into laughter as they left and Clarke grimaced.

“You should go with them. Go out and have fun.”

Clarke gave Bellamy a doubtful look. “Yeah, I’m not leaving you alone when you’re drunk like this.”

“I’m so fine,” he slurred. “I’ll just go back to my room.”

He lifted his head off the seat and made to get up, then paled, slumping back down. “Or I can just stay here. It’s all good.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

****

Clarke had dealt with his specific drunk mess more times than she’d admit, and if she was honest she used to find it endearing.

Back in their freshman year, before winter formal, Bellamy and Murphy had gone out to pregame with some of their rugby buddies and by the time they came back, Bellamy was belligerent. Clarke ended up having to escort him back to their dorm, him leaning heavily on her as she struggled with his weight and her heels.

When they got back to their dorm, she’d had to help him unlock his door, right next to hers.

He had flopped into bed and she’d gently removed his boots. Clarke felt her heart skip as she remember the feeling of him running a hand along her hair. She’d looked up to see him grinning lazily at her.

_You look really pretty_ , Bellamy had said, then his expression had shuttered. He had been with Gina then, and even though their relationship was strained by distance, he’d never cheat. Y _ou should go back out and find a nice person to hook up with. You deserve someone nice._

She’d jokingly assured him she would. Bellamy insisted on locking his door behind her and Clarke had laughed but allowed it. The lock had clicked shut and almost instantaneously she’d heard him slam into something. 

He blamed it on taking his contacts out and she’d laughed and left, her heart warm and full. 

That night she hooked up with Lexa for the first time.

Another time, at the end of the next semester, after Gina had dumped him and they’d started hooking up, he’d come back from yet another rugby party plastered and had barged into her room and flopped onto her bed beside her. 

They had kissed for a while and then laid face to face in her bed under the covers. His eyes had been bright and his grin dopey and then slowly his face had changed. 

His eyes ran over her face, searching. _He must really like you,_ he’d said. Clarke asked who he meant. _Your summer boy._

He meant Finn. Clarke had laughed at that. She’d told him before about how she and Finn had been hooking up every summer for a while at her lake house. 

_Trust me, he definitely doesn’t._ _He just liked fucking me._ Clarke had replied. 

It was true. She’d had such a huge thing for Finn until he brought his girlfriend up for a week. Raven had been so excited to meet her because they were going to the same school, and Clarke was fucking her boyfriend.

_Can I visit you over the summer?_ Bellamy had asked plaintively. Clarke nodded firmly.

_Can I sleep here?_ He’d asked and she agreed again. Thirty minutes later he’d bolted out of her bed, down the hall to the bathroom, presumably to throw up. When she heard his door open and close, she’d gone to sleep.

He certainly hadn’t visited her over the summer. Instead, he’d sent her snapchats of him and Gina dancing at concerts and making breakfast and kissing. 

She should’ve known better.

****

Clarke sighed and scrubbed her hand across her face to drive the memories away. She doesn’t like to think about freshman year, or how they’d been friends or how happy she’d been when she’d thought he’d liked her.

When they came back for sophomore year, he'd been single again, and stupidly she started hooking up with him again. He'd ended it via text message while drunk at a party. 

She'd thought he was too emotionally compromised over Gina to be in any kind relationship, but then he started fucking the girl she lived next to. It turned out he was ready to be in a relationship, just not with Clarke.

She’d mostly gotten over it. She wasn’t depressed anymore, didn’t have panic attacks when she saw him or Echo, didn’t avoid going to rugby parties just because she knew he’d be there, but it wasn’t good for her to remember being his friend or his lover. 

He’d never really liked her, Clarke reminded herself. She was just a very conveniently located lay. 

“I just want you to be happy,” he said again, straightening up slightly.

Her eyes flashed. 

“Don’t.”

Bellamy looked confused. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t pretend you care. Don’t pretend you ever cared.”

“I care.” He pulled himself off the ground and stumbled towards her. 

In an instant, Clarke was on her feet, wrapping an arm around his back under his shoulder and gently helping him back to the ground. He leaned back against the plastic stall divider.

“I miss being your friend,” Bellamy slurred. “We were good friends.”

Clarke could feel tears building behind her eyes but she blinked hard, refusing to let him see her cry. 

“You weren’t a good friend to me.”

He nodded in agreement. “I fuck everything up.”

She choked out a laugh. He grinned up at her then his eyes slowly fell shut, his head slumping against his shoulder.

“You passing out or falling asleep?” she asked, an undertone of worry coloring her voice.

He held up two fingers without opening his eyes. She snorted again. “How about we get you to your room first?”

He nodded and she was moving to go help him up when a Campus Safety officer came through the door.

The officer’s eyes flicked between them. “We got a report that there was someone passed out in the bathroom.”

Clarke winced. “No, Officer. He just had a bit too much to drink, but I can handle it.”

The officer nodded. “No need, ma’am. We called an ambulance for him. They’ll take good care of him.”

Clarke’s eyes darkened. “You called an ambulance just based on a report? What if he hadn’t been here? He doesn’t need to go to the ER.”

“Sorry, ma’am. It’s policy.” The officer shrugged. “They’ll meet us up here.”

“It’ll be easier if we bring him down and meet them there. He can get down the stairs.”

The officer looked at her patronizingly. “I think we can let the professionals decide what’s best, yeah?”

Anger bubbled up in her and she was about two seconds away from ripping into him when the crew arrived.

“Oh, hey Clarke. Long time no see.” Her co-worker Jackson grinned at her. She’d worked a shift with him earlier that day, but Diyoza had replaced her for the overnight.

She grinned back but sighed internally with disappointment. If it had been Jackson and someone else they might have let Bellamy stay with her, but Diyoza was a stickler for the rules, and altered mental status, aka being a drunk ass, was an automatic transport.

“This little lady here thinks he can walk down himself,” the officer said pompously, “But I thought I should get a second opinion.”

Diyoza nodded and looked at Clarke. “No stair chair?”

“Not unless you really want to,” Clarke replied.

“No stair chair then.” Diyoza nodded again and turned back to the officer. “I think we can handle it from here.”

He looked taken aback. “I’ll need to get his info to write a citation.”

“He’s over 21.” Clarke said, rolling her eyes. 

“I can’t just take your word for that.” 

Diyoza stepped in between them. “Clarke is one of our most promising volunteers. I think you can trust her. Now, please, let us do our job.”

Wordlessly she led him to the door. Diyoza had a way of making people do what she wanted.

“Alright,” she said brightly. “Should we go? We can check him out in the back of the truck, but I’m sure you’ve been doing fine.”

Clarke nodded and went to go help Bellamy up. “Come on, Bellamy. Let’s go.”

He nodded slowly and rose, leaning heavily against her.

“Let’s go,” he repeated.

They moved slowly through the hallway and down the stairs, Diyoza and Jackson providing support in case they fell. 

“So this is the famous Bellamy,” Diyoza drawled. 

Clarke flashed her a warning look. Long hours at the station had a way of making people overshare, but she didn’t want Bellamy to know she’d discussed him.

Diyoza raised her hands in surrender. “Bellamy who I have never heard about at all in great detail.”

“Me neither,” said Jackson. 

Clarke groaned. “You guys suck.”

“I don’t suck,” said Bellamy. Clarke exchanged a look with the other two.

“Sure you don’t,” replied Jackson. “You seem totally nice and responsible. That’s why they called us.”

Bellamy grumbled from his position slung across Clarke’s shoulders. “I’m tired.”

They came to a stop in front of the stretcher. “That’s why you’re gonna sit down here for me.”

He nodded, and then almost fell. Clarke caught him

“Whoa! Okay, Bellamy. How about you just hold on to me here?” Clarke shifted her arms so that she was chest to chest with him, her hands looped behind his back.

His hands grasped tightly around her hips. “Okay.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Great. Jackson, could you move the cot behind him?”

Clarke tried not to think of how familiar their position felt but she couldn’t help it.

The first night they had hooked up, they had been partying before spring formal with the hall. For one second he had stood intoxicatingly close and pulled her hips to his. _I shouldn’t hold you like this,_ he’d whispered in her ear. _I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable._

His big hands had seared through the fabric of her dress, burning her skin deliciously. She’d ghosted her lips over his jaw. _Trust me, I don’t mind._

This time, she helped him sit down. Bellamy looked at her so softly she had to turn away.

Jackson loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance and started taking Bellamy’s vitals. 

“You coming with us?” Diyoza asked Clarke.

She wrung her hands, gazing at Bellamy where he chatted dopily with Jackson. “No, I shouldn’t. Echo—his girlfriend—should go with him.”

Diyoza nodded and called out to Bellamy. “Hey buddy, where’s Echo?”

He laughed bitterly. “Probably fucking my best friend’s ex-girlfriend again.”

Diyoza looked at Clarke, amused. Clarke shrugged, her mouth agape.

“I didn’t—“

“Yeah, I bet,” Diyoza cut in. “You coming?”

Clarke nodded jerkily and Diyoza clapped her on the back. “Great. You’re up front with me.”

By the time Clarke got through helping the hospital reception with his registration, Bellamy was asleep.

She lurked around the emergency department for a while, before coming to rest on a chair by the door in his room. Clarke gazed at him, still in the bed, his chest rising and falling. The heart monitor beeped evenly.

She texted Murphy what’d happened and settled in to the chair. Slowly, she let the beeping of the monitors lull her to sleep.

****

She woke around six to gentle chatter. Blearily she stretched out and opened her eyes.

A beautiful brunette was standing next to Bellamy, quietly scolding him. Clarke recognized her from family weekend, freshman year. Octavia, his sister.

Bellamy glanced at Clarke uncomfortably and Octavia’s eyes followed.

“Oh!” She exclaimed brightly. “You’re up.”

Clarke nodded and looked away from Bellamy’s gaze, smiling slightly at Octavia. “Did Murphy tell you what happened?”

Octavia snorted. “He sure did. Thanks for taking care of this idiot for me.”

Clarke nodded again. “It’s no problem. I’m an EMT so I’m used to this kind of stuff.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Bellamy said. His voice was low and quiet, and Clarke fought the urge to shiver.

She stood up and shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah I— I should probably go.”

“Well, thanks again!” chirped Octavia. “Bell’s really lucky to have you as a friend.”

“We’re not—“ Clarke stopped short. She caught Bellamy’s eye for a second and then looked down. “Yeah. No problem.”

She turned and slipped out of the room, weaving through the ER, a sob resting high in her throat.

She ran headlong into Murphy as she burst out the doors. 

“Whoa, Clarke.” He held her by her shoulders and looked at her. “I was just coming to see if Bellamy needed a ride. You okay?”

She nodded and felt tears start to fall. “He’s fine, Octavia’s with him. Can you take me home?”

She tried and failed to stifle another sob. 

Murphy pulled her in for an uncharacteristic tight hug. Quietly in her ear he said, “Bellamy is my best friend, but he’s an idiot. He doesn’t deserve you.”

He released her. “Let’s go.”

****

Two hours later she received a text from a number that wasn’t in her address book anymore, but she knew who it was. It said: _Thanks._

She didn’t reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhh.... oops. Have a thing. There will probably be two or three chapters? I have no faith in myself tho so be warned.
> 
> UPDATE: I have planned out 8 chapters. Good god, I know. I don't trust myself either. So uh, strap in folks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bellamy scored a particularly rough try, Raven commented drily, “I'm surprised after what he put you through last weekend that the boy can still run.”
> 
> Clarke smacked her shoulder and pointedly looked at Octavia, who was sitting a few rows ahead of them.
> 
> She made an effort not to read into the fact that she didn’t see Echo. She’d made wrong assumptions before.
> 
> “Just saying,” grumbled Raven.
> 
> ******  
> Clarke makes decisions that are probably not in her own best interests and Bellamy is a little dickish, what else is new? Featuring: gratuitous backstory, Jackson/Miller, mild banter, and a healthy portion of bro!Murphy

She went to the rugby match on Friday.

It was a questionable decision, considering, but Clarke had always gone to all the rugby matches. It was the closest their school had to football, and besides, Murphy was on the team too.

Clarke’s sophomore year, after the fall season had ended, and well after she was no longer on speaking terms with Bellamy, she had received a text from him: _thank you for coming to all my matches_.

She didn’t know what infuriated her more, the implication that she had been coming for him, or the fact that the day he sent the text was the day him and Echo started dating officially.

Clarke hadn’t intended on replying, but a day later after she learned about his new relationship status she texted back: _It’s really not fair of you to text me._

She had sent a worse text a few weeks before when she had learned that they were fucking. She had been crying in her darkened room and she had asked: _Did you at least feel guilty about it?_

_Yes dude I’m really sorry._ Bellamy had replied almost instantaneously, like he’d been waiting for it, and that enraged her.

_Don’t call me dude._ Clarke had responded. 

Murphy had showed up a half hour later, uninvited. _Heard you might need a friend._

He'dsat stoically beside her while she sobbed her heart out. It had kinda helped.

She had been so angry, had felt so betrayed. Even if Bellamy hadn’t wanted to be with her, he didn’t have to fuck one of the ten people she lived with, someone she couldn’t avoid seeing everyday.

And Echo, Clarke had thought they were friends. She had confided in her about how she felt about Bellamy, had vented to her before one of her and Bellamy’s “serious talks” they kept having to try and resolve their summer issues. 

Apparently fucking Bellamy was more worthwhile to her than being Clarke’s friend.

In the days following, Echo had mysteriously started constantly hanging out with Clarke’s other friends who lived with them, Roan and Niylah and Emori. 

Clarke was no longer comfortable keeping her door open or venturing onto the hall to see them, and they stopped coming to see her.

Clarke had put in an application for a room transfer a week later.

In hindsight, Clarke knows that the whole situation was exacerbated by depression; that she had been depressed for most of the summer and all of the first semester of sophomore year after one too many concussions. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have cared as much if she had been mentally healthy. She didn’t know if it would’ve changed anything else, but she didn’t like to dwell. 

The past was past. She had let go of Bellamy. She took her meds everyday and her depression was in full remission. She had a semester and a half left of college, she was going to apply to med school and she was going to get in.

Besides, she had always felt safe coming to rugby matches. Bellamy stayed on the field and she stayed in the bleachers. It was like seeing sharks at the aquarium, except the shark was her ex-almost-boyfriend.

It was cold and foggy, but she stayed the whole match, huddled up with Raven and Harper and Madi.

When Bellamy scored a particularly rough try, Raven commented drily, “I'm surprised after what he put you through last weekend that the boy can still run.”

Clarke smacked her shoulder and pointedly looked at Octavia, who was sitting a few rows ahead of them.

She made an effort not to read into the fact that she didn’t see Echo. She’d made wrong assumptions before.

“Just saying,” grumbled Raven.

Harper and Madi looked at Clarke, confused. Clarke hadn’t told many people about how she’d spent her last Saturday night, not wanting to unnecessarily humiliate Bellamy.

It was a weird place to be, navigating what to say and what not to say when most of your friends were also friends with your ex.

Clarke shrugged at them in reply. “Long story.”

****

They left the match a little early, trying to beat the rush out of the bleachers. Ark College was up by a lot so Clarke thought it was fair to say they’d win, and besides, she was cold and she wanted a coffee.

Halfway around the pitch, Clarke realized she’d left her travel mug on the bleachers.

She stopped short and the rest of the group turned to look at her. “Fuck.”

“What’s up?” Raven asked.

“Forgot my mug,” Clarke replied. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you guys at the Dropship."

“We can wait for you if you want. It’s no problem.” Clarke knew Madi was being sincere even as she shivered.

Clarke waved her hand dismissively. “No, no, go ahead. It’s cold and I’ll just be a sec. Order me a mocha?”

Madi nodded gratefully.

Clarke trudged back to the bleachers, her hands stuffed tightly in her pockets for warmth.

There was still a little time left in the game, so the stairs were clear as she carefully moved up. It was starting to sprinkle a bit, and her traction on the metal steps was not great. 

Octavia caught her eye as she moved up the stairs and waved brightly at her. Clarke gave her a tight smile in return.

Grabbing her mug, Clarke turned to make her way back down, looking out over the field. Unconsciously, her eyes sought out a familiar dark head.

He was closer than she expected, standing on the sidelines near the bleachers. His curls were slicked back against his forehead from sweat and rain, and if Clarke was being honest with herself he was beautiful. 

As if he felt her eyes on him, Bellamy turned his face up towards the bleachers and their eyes locked. 

Clarke wanted to look away, wanted to yell at him, wanted to flip him off, wanted to kiss him, but she just looked back, her face openly displaying her inner turmoil.

The blare of the airhorn signaling the the end of the game startled them both, their gaze breaking. In that second, Clarke’s feet stuttered on the last slick step. She slipped.

She felt a shriek rip out of her throat. Her mug flew out of her hand and her legs swung out from under her. Clarke’s thoughts as she fell bounced between two familiar themes: _Fuck_ and _I’m blaming Bellamy for this._

She hoped to god he hadn’t seen it.

****

She had fallen down the stairs once before, during her and Bellamy’s brief sophomore interlude. She had been a little tipsy, and a little too excited as she went to meet him at the door.

He had found her sprawled in a heap at the bottom of the stairwell, laughing and clutching her ankle, tears streaming down her face.

_You alright?_ Bellamy had asked nervously, his hand gripping her shoulders tightly as he’d looked her over. _How’s your head?_

Clarke had reached out and ran her fingers along the curve of his face, pulling him in for a soft kiss. _Never better._

He’d laughed and scooped her up into his arms, hefting her up the stairs and dumping her unceremoniously into her bed. He’d kicked off his shoes and climbed up next to her, but his eyes had darkened and his expression had closed off.

_What’s wrong?_ She’d asked, reaching up to touch his face.

He’d stopped her hand with his own, pulling it down to his lap and squeezing it tight, then releasing it. _Don’t do that shit again._

_****_

Her upper back hit the ground hard and her head snapped back involuntarily, slicing across the corner of the bleacher. Tears sprung up in her eyes and she struggled to breathe.

Octavia was over her in a second, cradling her head and calling for help. 

If Clarke wasn’t so dazed she would’ve snorted. There was an ambulance on stand-by at every rugby game. She was so gonna get roasted for this for all eternity.

“Alright, nothing to see here, everybody just back off.” Jackson and Miller pushed through the crowd, waving people off.

“Well, well, well,” drawled Jackson. “Be honest, Clarke, you planned this so you wouldn’t have to work with me tomorrow, didn’t you?”

She barked out a small laugh and grimaced as it moved her sore back. 

“You caught me,” Clarke wheezed.

She tried to sit up and Miller gently held her shoulders down, shaking his head. “Let us check you out first.”

Clarke dropped back down, grumbling. “Fine, but I’ll kill you if you try to put a stupid collar on me.”

Miller laughed. “Jackson, get me a cervical collar, stat. I think we’ve got a spinal.”

“You got it, boss,” Jackson replied, not moving from where he was leaning against the railing above her.

Clarke glared up at them accusingly, but there was no malice in it. “You guys suck.”

Miller laughed but continue to move over her, conducting the normal trauma exam. Clarke played along begrudgingly.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Octavia asked, her eyes wide. Clarke had forgotten she was there.

“I’ll be fine, Octavia, thanks,” Clarke replied. “These jokers are just trying kill time so they don’t have to go back to doing real work.”

“I resent that.” Jackson moved to help her sit up. “You’re an important member of our organization and we value you. There’s at least a ten percent chance that we are genuinely concerned.”

“Maybe even fifteen,” Miller added. “That blood in your hair looks pretty gnarly.”

Clarke groaned and touched a hand to the back of her head. It came away red. “Fuck, this is gonna suck to get out.”

Octavia hovered nervously, her eyes flitting back to the end of the bleachers where the players had congregated after the game. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Clarke pushed herself up to standing. “Yeah, don’t worry, you go ahead. Tell your brother good game for me.”

Octavia smiled brightly and gave her a quick hug before going. Jackson, Miller, and Clarke watched as she made her way into the crowd and was snatched up by a triumphant Bellamy. 

“‘Tell your brother good game for me?’ As in Octavia Blake’s brother, as in Bellamy Blake?” Miller sounded doubtful. 

Clarke groaned. “I blanked, okay?”

They started to make their way off the bleachers. 

“Are you guys on speaking terms again?” Miller asked curiously. “He hasn’t said anything.”

Clarke always forgot Miller and Bellamy knew each other from high school. She shook her head.

“You sure?” he prodded. “Kinda seems like there’s something you might want to share with the class.” 

Clarke groaned. “Just go make out with Jackson already and leave me alone.”

Jackson looked scandalized. “Clarke! We would never do that.”

Clarke gave him a doubtful look. 

“Well, not on shift anyway,” Miller amended.

Clarke laughed and smacked them both on the back as they reached the end of the bleachers, coming down to where the players were celebrating.

“You gonna get back to your dorm okay?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, see you tomorrow.”

He nodded and started back towards the truck. 

Miller came to stand next to her, handing over her forgotten mug. “We can give you a ride back if you want. On the low. You look a little scary.”

She shook her head and he nodded back, then pulled her into a one arm hug.

“Alright then.”

He released her and gave her a serious look. “Watch out for sharks.” He gestured to her head. “Plenty of blood in the water.”

Clarke choked out a laugh. “Will do.”

Miller gave her a two fingered salute as he made his exit. “See ya.”

She waved back and then turned back to the crowd of people before her, looking for the best way around.

She saw Bellamy talking to Octavia, his expression tense. His eyes found Clarke over Octavia’s head and he pushed past her gently with a hand on her shoulder, moving purposefully towards Clarke. 

“Fuck,” she squeaked. She glanced at the truck but Jackson was already pulling away. He waved at her as he went.

Her eyes moved back to Bellamy, storming toward her. “Clarke.”

His voice was dark and his eyes were wild, focusing on the blood in her hair and on her hands.

Clarke froze. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She was really not in the mood to deal with this right now.

Suddenly Bellamy’s warpath was halted by an arm to the chest.

“Whoa there, tiger,” drawled Murphy. “How bout you just slow down for a second?”

Bellamy’s eyes flashed and for a second Clarke was sure he was gonna punch Murphy. Murphy had grown a lot as a person since their freshman year and he and Bellamy were best friends, but, by god, the boy had a punchable face.

“Murphy, take your goddamn hands off me,” Bellamy practically growled.

“Nope.” Murphy popped the _p_. “Not until you back off.”

Bellamy took a step back, and Murphy’s hand fell from his chest. He caught Clarke’s eyes over Murphy’s shoulder. She gulped and looked down.

“Look,” Murphy said, “My pal Clarke over here has clearly had a bit of a day. You know you’re not helping. Why don’t you go back to your sister? I think she’s over flirting with Lincoln.”

They all glanced back to where Octavia was, indeed, standing a bit too close to Lincoln with her hand on his arm, looking awfully flirty.

Bellamy looked back at Clarke. This time she held his gaze defiantly, daring him to say something. 

He opened his mouth as if to argue then glanced down at Murphy. Clarke couldn’t see his expression but it must’ve been fierce because Bellamy spun and stalked away.

“Hey, Lincoln, have you met my _freshman_ sister?”

Murphy turned towards Clarke with a smirk. She chuckled at his smug expression.

“Need a escort, Princess?” Clarke felt a twinge at the old nickname but accepted his proffered elbow. 

“You gotta quit it with the knight in shining armor deal,” she teased. “People will get the wrong impression.”

They made their way around the crowd.

“Yeah, it sure would suck if people started thing I was nice.”

Murphy’s tone was joking, but his voice betrayed a undercurrent of genuine sadness. Clarke poked his arm.

“Hey, emo boy. This is a self pity free zone.”

He laughed. “Of course it is. No wallowing here. I don’t even know what that is. I’ve certainly never seen you do it.”

Clarke smiled back at him and squeezed his arm where it was linked with hers. 

“Shut up.”

Murphy tugged on a lock of her bloodied hair affectionately.“You know, I kinda like it like this. Looks badass.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never wash it out then, just for you.”

“Or you can just dye it red.”

Clarke bumped her shoulder against his. “Ah, get out of here with your logical solutions. When did you become the boring one?”

They arrived at her dorm and he dropped her arm. 

“Thanks for the escort, Murphy. Especially given that it’s the second time, this could almost definitely be called nice.”

Murphy nodded thoughtfully, waving off her praise. He made to leave, then hesitated. 

“They broke up, you know. Him and Echo.” 

Clarke groaned.

Murphy looked apologetic. “I just thought you should know, so you don’t go crazy speculating.”

She nodded. “Thanks for that, I guess.”

Clarke turned to go.

Halfway up the steps she heard Murphy call out to her retreating form, “You’re gonna have to deal with it sometime, you know.”

“Not if I graduate first!” Clarke called back.

She didn’t look but she could practically feel Murphy shaking his head at her.

****

It took her over a half hour to wash the blood out of her hair. The cut itself was shallow and less than an inch long.

Facing her back in the mirror, Clarke lowered her towel and looked over her shoulder. A bruise was blooming dark purple and green across it where she had hit the pavement.

She sighed and made her way back to her room, her wet shower shoes squeaking ungracefully. 

Clarke fished her phone out of her pants pocket and settled into bed, checking her missed messages.

There was one from Raven ( _Hurry up or your mocha is getting sacrificed to the cause_ ), one from Madi ( _Are you alright? I went back to look for you and I think there was blood on the bleachers but nobody was there_ ), and two from that godforsaken unsaved number.

_I hope you’re okay_ , said the first one.

The next one had been sent thirty minutes later.

_I’m sorry._

Clarke groaned and tossed her phone across the room. 

An hour later, after realizing she really truly didn’t feel the need to cry, she stalked over and retrieved it.

She saved his number under the letter B.

She didn’t reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time I wrote a multi chapter fanfic I was 13 and it was Bella/Jacob. It also sucked ass. She may or may not have gotten red streaks and started wearing leather jackets. 
> 
> Also feel free to give advice or ideas. No constructive criticism tho plz, I will literally cry. I only want to know what you think if its like, I don't know, undying adoration or whatever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You a friend of hers?” She heard the bartender ask. 
> 
> The chest at her back hesitated. “Yeah,” they said slowly. “Sort of.”
> 
> Clarke laughed. The bartender looked at her questioningly.
> 
> “Sort of,” Clarke repeated.
> 
> The bartender shook her head, exhausted. “Whatever. I’m gonna give him your keys, alright?”
> 
> *****  
> Clarke has a rough shift, Murphy proves that he's a dick, Clarke gets a little too dranky and needs a ride home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mildly graphic depictions of a car accident

Saturday at the main station was normally Clarke’s favorite shift. 

When she’d signed up from her first one, cajoled by Jackson, she had thought that the 6 A.M. start time on a weekend was going to be a dealbreaker, but Saturday mornings were slow. They rarely got any calls before 11 and Clarke usually spent the day napping in the TV room.

Today was another story. 

She’d thought the morning couldn’t get any worse when she’d arrived to find that Jackson had called out sick and she was going to riding with McCreary, her least favorite medic, but boy was she wrong.

A nor’easter was blowing through. It had only been drizzling slightly when Clarke had gottenin, but by 9 A.M. it had developed into full, driving rain, with periods of sleet.

As anyone who works in emergency services will tell you, people go nuts when there’s a storm.

By the time she managed to leave, Clarke had spent probably a total of an hour at the station, the rest of the time spent on never-ending calls. 

The last one had come in about five minutes before shift change, as they were leaving the ER after dropping off their third overdose of the day. They’d picked this one up from the bathroom of a take-out sushi restaurant.

The dispatch was for a trauma: six year old female hit by a car. Clarke knew it wasn’t going to be a happy ending as soon as she saw her.

She’d been hit by a teenage girl going about 35 mph while crossing the street with her mom outside the synagogue. Clarke could see the teenager sobbing on the curb, surrounded by police.

The little girl was on her back on the pavement, her mother holding an umbrella over her and sobbing. Her eyes were closed and her forehead was smeared with blood.

As Clarke got closer she realized it was dented in.

Her and McCreary were joined by a trainee and the crew chief, who came to drive. They did what they could in the back of the truck, three sets of hands moving frantically over the small body.

They lost heart rhythm halfway to the hospital and spent too many long minutes resuscitating her. After the second round of epi they got a pulse back and everyone in the truck breathed out simultaneously before jumping back into action.

By the time they arrived at a trauma center and handed her off, everyone’s adrenaline was riding high. They watched as the doctors in the ER worked on her for about half a minute before she coded again.

Clarke almost screamed when they called it.

Glassy-eyed, she wiped down the stretcher and put on a fresh sheet.

“What is this?” McCreary yelled at her, pointing to the sheet. Clarke looked closer, confused.

“Are you completely useless?!” He was louder this time, shaking the offending linen in her face, and tears sprung up in Clarke’s eyes. It was spots of blood, seeping through the sheet.

She mumbled an apology and threw the sheet in the soiled linens, reaching for the antiseptic wipes. Clarke pulled apart the sections of padding and gagged when she saw how much blood was hiding between them.

When they’d returned to the station and she got back to her car, it was almost 8:30 P.M. She’d been at work for nearly fifteen hours.

Clarke gripped the steering wheel with both hands and rested her forehead against it. She allowed herself one sob, then sat back, whipped her uniform shirt over her head and replaced it with a soft black v-neck. 

She drove directly to the bar.

****

By the time Murphy got there, about an hour later, she was three shots deep and halfway through a vodka cran. He sat next to her and ordered a beer.

“Who’s the pity party for?”

She punched his arm and grinned at him. “Sup, ugly.” 

He didn’t smile back. “Getting a little sloppy, I see.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open.

“I am affronted, sir,” she slurred. She tossed back the rest of her drink and gestured to the bartender for a refill. 

“Are you still in your work pants?” Murphy sounded scandalized.

“I’ll have you know, these are very flattering. They make my butt look good,” Clarke replied haughtily.

Murphy nodded. “Sure, kid, but they’re also gross. Like— is that blood?”

He pointed to a spot by her knee and her heart stuttered in her chest. Her grin dropped.

“Fuck off, Murphy.”

“What, doc, did you lose a patient? All those years of watching your mom haven’t paid off?” Murphy asked mockingly. 

Clarke glared at him. He knew about her shitty relationship with her mom, and knew better than to bring it up. He must have been in a bad mood.

Murphy got like this, lashed out at his friends when he was feeling bad, as if he needed them to feel as shitty as he did. Clarke did not care for that shit at all.

The bartender dropped off her new drink and Clarke quietly thanked her, taking a swig and turning to face the rest of the bar.

She watched as a familiar face came through the door, grinning, and she spun back around quickly.

“What in the fuck is he doing here?” Her voice was tight, her teeth gritted. Murphy turned around, his eyes running lazily over the newcomers.

“Gee, Clarke, I don’t know.” Murphy took a long pull of his beer, leaning back against the bar. “What in the world could Bellamy be doing at the closest bar to campus, on a Saturday night?”

Her eyes flashed and Murphy’s eyebrows raised. He laughed harshly. “What, you think he’s here to taunt you? Newsflash, princess, he doesn’t give a shit about you.”

Clarke was hurt, but she refused to show it. “Yeah thanks, Murphy, I’m aware.” 

“He’s probably just here to pick up some chick now that he’s single again. Kid needs to get laid.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “You’re being a cock, Murphy, and you’re doing it on purpose. I think you should go.”

He scoffed. “When are you going to get over it, Clarke? It’s been three years. Honestly, don’t you think it’s a little pathetic?”

Her expression hardened further. “I’m not playing this game with you tonight. Go away.”

Murphy laughed again. “I think I’ll finish my beer first.”

She glared at him as he gestured to his mostly full beer, grinning. Without breaking eye contact, she snagged his drink from the bar and downed it. Clarke set the empty glass back down and wiped her hand across her lips. 

“You’re finished. Go.”

“Whatever,” Murphy grumbled and pushed away from the bar. 

Clarke watched as he sauntered away. Halfway across the room, he was stopped by a pretty brunette and his bitter expression suddenly switched to charming. Clarke groaned and took a sip of her drink.

The bartender came over and slid her a glass of water. “You drive here?”

Clarke nodded, confused. The bartender held out her hand. “Keys.”

Clarke looked at her open hand and then back to her face. The bartender sighed. “Your car keys. You seem like you’ve had a rough night, and I’ll let you keep drinking, but you aren’t driving home.”

Clarke nodded slowly and dug her keys out of her purse, handing them over. 

“Thanks,” she said.

The bartender laughed. “Don’t get that one a lot, but you’re welcome I guess.’

“Sorry. I tip well?” Clarke offered.

The bartender laughed again. “I’m sure you do, honey. Let me know if you need anything.”

****

A few vodka crans and a couple hours later, Clarke was about three drinks past gone. She had closed out her tab a while before, tipping probably more than entirely necessary, but hey, she was drunk and the bartender was nice and pretty. Might as well.

Setting down the water she had been nursing, Clarke moved to pull her phone out of her purse to call an Uber. She felt herself start to slip off the stool but then she was caught by someone, a warm chest pressed against her back, steadying her. Her eyes fluttered shut. They felt familiar.

“Careful, Clarke, are you okay?” She nodded and smiled slightly, keeping her eyes closed. “Where’s Murphy?”

She shrugged and snuggled back a bit into the warmth. They swore quietly. “Fuck, alright. How about I take you back to your dorm? Is that okay or do you want me to call someone else?”

She shrugged again, her eyes opening.

“You a friend of hers?” She heard the bartender ask. 

The chest at her back hesitated. “Yeah,” they said slowly. “Sort of.”

Clarke laughed. The bartender looked at her questioningly.

“Sort of,” Clarke repeated.

The bartender shook her head, exhausted. “Whatever. I’m gonna give him your keys, alright?”

Clarke nodded. “You’re very good at your job.”

“Thanks,” the bartender said blandly, and handed over the keys. Clarke yawned.

The chest at her back became an arm around her waist, guiding her to the door. The two of them moved quietly through the parking lot to her car. As they helped her into the passenger seat, she jerked up. 

“Wait! What about your car?”

The person laughed. “Clarke, I walked here. Don’t worry about it.”

She nodded complacently and nestled into the seat. “Great. Thank you.”

She closed her eyes for just a second and then they were shaking her shoulder gently. The car was parked in the school parking lot.

“Hey, Clarke, where do you live?”

Clarke murmured the answer without opening her eyes. She heard her door open, and felt herself gently lifted into a set of strong arms.

She sighed softly, and let the rocking of their footsteps lull her back to sleep.

She resurfaced again for a moment as they tugged off her work boots and pulled her covers up over her.She felt a hand against her cheek, the briefest touch, and then they were gone, and she was asleep.

****

She woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door. The sun was bright on her face. Groggily, she scrubbed a hand across her eyes and took in her surroundings.

Clarke was in her own bed, fully clothed minus her boots. Her phone was charging on her bedside table, next to a glass of water and a few Advil. There was a trashcan on the floor by the head of her bed, blissfully empty. Her car keys were hanging on her door handle, along with her purse.

The knock came again, more insistent. She groaned and hauled herself to the door.

Behind it was an abashed-looking Murphy, clutching two cups of coffee. He held one out towards her. Clarke glared at him.

“Rough night?”

She reached out and punched his shoulder before accepting the proffered coffee. “Stop being mean to your friends, you self-sabotaging dickbag.” 

“I’m a cock and an awful friend?” Murphy offered, grinning guiltily. Clarke shook her head at him, taking a deep swig of coffee and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Whatever.” She moved back into her room and Murphy followed. “Thanks for taking me home last night, and for the Advil and whatnot.” 

He looked confused. “Clarke, I didn’t take you home. Do you seriously not remember?”

Clarke sighed heavily and threw herself back onto her bed. “Oh, no. What did I do?”

Murphy shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know that you did anything per se—“

Clarke motioned for him to come sit next to her on the bed. He did, flopping heavily down beside her. She flicked his arm.

“Ow!” Murphy exclaimed.

She did it again.

“Tell me.”

He sighed, not meeting her eyes. “Well, you probably did something, but that’s not really the point. What I mean to say is, I went home before you, with a girl. So it wasn’t that I would even know if you did do something but—”

“I’m a big girl, Murphy. Spit it out.”

He looked at her quickly then moved his eyes away, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“I wasn’t there to take you home. So Bellamy did.” Clarke’s mouth dropped open and she stared incredulously at him. He shrugged. “Sorry?”

Clarke groaned and pulled her duvet up over her head.

“Fuck.”

He patted her blanket covered head apologetically. “Just think of it this way: now you’re even.”

She groaned again. “Just leave me to my suffering, please.”

Murphy nodded. “Sure thing.”

When he reached the door, he turned back to her. “Hey, Clarke?”

She pulled the covers away from her face, sitting up. “Yeah?”

“You know I didn’t mean that, last night. About your mom, or about Bellamy not caring about you. It’s not true.”

Clarke nodded but kept her eyes on the wall. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Murphy repeated, then left.

Clarke reached over to her bedside table, taking the Advil and following it by gulping down the whole glass of water. She set the glass down carefully. Slowly, her eyes fell on her boots, lined up neatly against the wall.

She felt the ghost of a caress against her cheek.

She picked up her phone. 

_Thank you,_ Clarke sent, and the reply was almost instantaneous.

_You okay?_ She groaned and pressed her phone to her forehead. 

After a minute, she pulled back, and typed out slowly. _Yeah._

Clarke watched with her heart in her throat as those three dots indicating that he was typing rolled across the screen, starting, then stopping, then starting again. She didn’t know whether to be upset or grateful when they went away for good, with no response. 

She sighed and lay back, dropping her phone to her chest. Gently, questioningly, she reached up and rested her fingers against her cheek. 

It felt familiar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are no flashbacks in this one, because there aren't. i didn't realize til the end but i think it's fine anyways? in any case i suck at editing so whatever folks. hope you enjoyed. catch me trying to resurrect Belllamy's character after  
> i accidentally massacred it in the prior chapters. sorry!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, then what am I supposed to do?” Clarke whined.
> 
> Diyoza replied without hesitation, not even bothering to look up from her magazine, “Get laid.”
> 
> *****
> 
> Clarke gets some advice she doesn't want to hear, follows it, and gets trapped in some mild awkwardness

“He spends a year and a half not giving half a shit whether I live or die, and then suddenly, he cares enough to drive me home from the bar? Like does that sound even remotely real to you?”

Diyoza, Miller, and Jackson all groaned in unison.

“For fucks sake, Clarke,” grumbled Jackson, “It’s been weeks. Shouldn’t you be obsessing about something else by now?”

“I am not obsessing.” Clarke grew irritated. “Simply acknowledging a situation that nobody has provided an explanation for.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” drawled Diyoza, flipping through some magazine somebody had left in the TV room.

Miller laughed. “They would probably both implode.”

“It’s not like we’re friends. I can’t just _ask_ him.” Clarke eyed Miller, considering. “But somebody else—“

“Oh, hell no,” interrupted Miller. “What’s between you and Bellamy is between you and Bellamy. You could not pay me enough to get involved in that nonsense.”

“Well, then what am I supposed to do?” Clarke whined.

Diyoza replied without hesitation, not even bothering to look up from her magazine, “Get laid.”

Clarke was taken aback, looking to Miller and Jackson for help, but they merely shrugged. She huffed out an indignant breath.

“It’s not like she’s wrong,” Miller muttered.

“I do not need to get laid.” 

Jackson looked at her doubtfully, his eyebrows raised. “When was the last time you hooked up with somebody?”

Clarke scoffed. “Recently.” Her forehead scrunched up as she tried to remember, but came up short. “Okay, maybe not so recently, but still.

Miller started to laugh and Clarke pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, continuing to laugh as the alarm went off indicating a call.  Clarke crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back, listening to the dispatch. 

“Not it,” said Diyoza, one finger on her nose. 

****

“They said I needed to get laid,” Clarke complained.

“You do,” Murphy and Raven replied in unison, then looked at each other and high fived. Clarke groaned and slumped down, her wet hair falling back over the edge of the couch. 

Raven patted her shoulder sympathetically. “There, there. Even if you weren’t an absolute abyss of sexual frustration, as a wise man once said, the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody else.”

Clarke sat back up straight and pushed off Raven’s hand. “I’m already over him. It’s been three years. Plus getting laid is like a lot of effort.”

Murphy barked out a sharp laugh. “Cheers to that!” When Clarke didn’t move he lifted her limp wrist and brought her glass to his. She watched, unamused. “Clink!”

Raven rolled her eyes and unfolded her legs, standing up. She brushed chip crumbs off her pants. “Alright!” she said, clapping her hands together brightly. “New plan. Instead of staying in tonight, we’re going to winter formal.”

Clarke and Murphy groaned. Raven shook a finger at them. “No complaining! We’re all going out and looking hot and getting laid tonight. Clarke, you especially.”

Murphy threw a chip at her. “No fair, Raven, you have a boyfriend. You’re getting laid no matter what.”

Raven smiled smugly back at him. “Not my fault I’m so entrancing.” More chips sailed at her, from Clarke and Murphy both. “Hey, knock it off, you losers! Get up and get ready.”

“Whatever, I’m not changing.” Murphy said, putting his feet up on the coffee table. He poked Clarke in the side. “Go put on make-up or something.”

Clarke grumbled and hauled herself off the couch. She looked down at the outfit she threw on haphazardly after her shower. She thought it was kind of sloppy chic, and besides, she was a senior, so it’s not like she hadn’t done this the right way before. “It’s cool if I wear this, right?”

Raven and Murphy stared back at her in horror. 

“Absolutely not,” said Raven. “Blow dry your hair and put on that strapless velvet dress.”

“You look like a swamp gremlin,” Murphy added helpfully.

Groaning, Clarke stalked out of the room. Quickly, she blow dried her hair and did her makeup, then pulled out the dress Raven had told her to wear. She held it out and looked at it.

It was short, and tight, and a little bit sexy. Clarke had gotten it a while ago, and she was sure she’d gained weight since then, so she was more than a little apprehensive about wearing it. Giving herself a mental pep talk, she pulled it on and yanked up the zipper.

The zipper went up easy, and Clarke let out a sigh of relief. Pulling her two sets of heels out of the storage bin under her bed, she made her way back to the common room to get Raven’s advice.

As she pushed through the door, she asked, “Are we thinking black or gold heels?”

Murphy greeted her with a long whistle, his eyes running up and down her body. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Where’s Raven?”

“Getting dressed. Doubt she’s got something as good as that though, damn, Clarke.” She chucked a gold shoe at him. 

“Watch it, I could’ve lost an eye!” He flipped the shoe in his hands and looked at her again, considering. “I’d say wear the black ones.”

She looked at him questioningly and he shrugged. “What, am I not allowed to know fashion?”

She huffed and sat down, buckling the black heels onto her feet. “It conflicts somewhat with your facade of fragile masculinity.”

He tossed her the gold heel and laughed, eyes twinkling. “Don’t confuse my self-loathing with fragile masculinity. Two very different things.”

Clarke smacked him. “How about tonight we don’t have either?”

“Ah, you say that now, but don’t blame me when you start missing my self-deprecating humor.” Murphy made some sort of undecipherable grand gesture with his hands to somehow indicate his sense of humor, or so Clarke assumed.

She rolled her eyes.

“Ta-da!” Raven burst in and Murphy groaned, rolling backwards.

“Shit, Raven, why do you have to look good too? You guys are making me look bad.” Clarke and Raven made eye contact, silently conversing before smushing Murphy in a two sided hug.

“Oh, knock it off.”

They both laughed at him, Clarke ruffling a hand through his hair as he tried to shake her off.

“Let us love you, you dumbass.”

****

They arrived at winter formal fashionably late, as was expected given how damn old they were. They had had a bit more to drink, but honestly Clarke was feeling fairly sober for a party, not to mention hungry. “I’m gonna go grab some snacks.”

Murphy and Raven nodded dismissively at her, gossiping about some boy Clarke had never met. She rolled her eyes and started pushing her way through the crowd.

Without warning, a small body slammed into her chest. “Clarke, I’m so glad you’re here, I thought you weren’t coming.”

Clarke chuckled and ran her hands through Madi’s long brown hair. “I couldn’t let you guys have all the fun.”

If Clarke was honest with herself, she was not as young as she used to be, and she kind of wanted to go home. She used to be able to drink and party for hours, but these days after a couple beers and an hour or two, she was ready for bed. 

“I was just talking about you!” Madi exclaimed. “With my new friend... uh—“

“Roan,” Clarke finished for her. “Long time no see.”

He grinned, his eyes bright. “Sure has been a while, Clarke. How have you been?”

He sidled in closer and Madi looked back and forth between the two. “Uh, I think I see my friend Ethan over— over somewhere. Gotta go!”

Clarke laughed as she watched her dart off into the crowd. “ If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my freshman might be setting us up.”

Roan looked her up and down appreciatively. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was working.”

“Oh yeah?” Clarke asked. If Roan was into her, why bother fighting it? Clarke had come with the intention of getting laid; she might as well follow though.

Roan responded boldly by wrapping his arms around her spine and drawing her close.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he whispered in her ear, then her head feel back as she felt his lips press against her neck. She slid a hand into his hair and drew his mouth up to her lips, not quite meeting it. 

“Really?” She asked, her mouth a hair’s breadth away from his. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of reluctance, but finding none. 

“Really,” he repeated, and crushed his mouth to hers. It was pleasant, Clarke thought, as she drew backwards and pressed her own back up against a wall. 

She and Roan had used to be good friends, before the Echo thing, and now were the type where the only real interaction they had was waving as they passed each other and greeting the other gleefully when they saw each other at parties. In terms of people to hook up with, he was not a bad choice. 

They kissed fervently, and for a while Clarke was too mixed up in it to feel embarrassed about making-out publicly at a party as a senior. That feeling did not last. 

“Want to go somewhere?” She asked, drawing back.

“My place or yours?” Roan leaned forward and nipped at her lip and Clarke pulled back further, laughing. She considered for a second before deciding that having sex on her hall was probably a social liability. So it was, living with freshman.

“Yours.” 

Roan searched her face again and then smiled, wrapping his hand in hers. “Okay.”

As they moved through the crowd, Clarke caught Raven’s eye. Raven smacked Murphy to get his attention and they both looked at Roan approvingly. 

_Nice_ , Raven mouthed, giving her a thumbs up, while Murphy made a somewhat lewd hand gesture. Clarke rolled her eyes

Clarke and Roan made their way back to his dorm, pulling off the path occasionally to make-out in odd places. When they got into his room, Clarke found her back up against his door, her clothes coming off quickly.

“Wait, wait wait,” Clarke said, coming up for air. Roan leaned back, looking at her quizzically, pushing her hair back from her face. “Us having sex isn’t going to make things weird is it?”

“Make what weird?”

“This.” Clarke gestured between the two of them. “Us being friends. I missed hanging out with you and I don’t want this to make it awkward.”

Roan laughed. “It’s not going to make it weird. What, can you not be friends with people you’ve had sex with?”

Clark laughed uncomfortably and leaned back in to the kiss. If she was being honest, she was pretty sure she wasn’t on speaking terms with anyone she’d had sex with, but she didn’t exactly want to admit to that. 

Whether it was a function of her taste in partners or the relatively low number of people she’d been with, it was mildly embarrassing. Somewhat earlier while looking back on her list of hookups, Clarke realized that all the people she’d slept with had either gone on to at least temporarily ruin her life or were essentially strangers.

She hoped that stage in her life was over, but she knew what they said about making assumptions.

****

Niylah was one her favorite old hookups, because it had been so easy. Neither of them felt anything for each other, and, with the exception of the brief time they’d lived together, the only time she saw her was when they hooked up. She’d transferred second semester sophomore year, but Clarke looked back fondly on their time together.

They weren’t really friends outside of it, but while they were hooking up, they were so nice to each other. They were like friends with benefits, but without the friends part. Just benefits, Clarke supposed.

Once freshman year after Gina had dumped Bellamy but before he and Clarke had gotten together, their hall had gone out to a party together and Clarke had lost him in the crowd. When she’d found him again, he’d been leaning up on the wall over Roma, flirting heavily. 

Clarke had sent Niylah a snapchat earlier in the night and forgotten about it. Clarke and Harper went home early due to Clarke’s mild emotional distress, and after they’d been back for only about five minutes, Niylah replied.  _I could come over, if you want._

Cool, calm, and collected only over text, Clarke had responded, _If you want to._

Niylah had come over and there was no pretense; they immediately bid Harper goodnight, going into Clarke’s room and starting to pull off their clothes. After, they had laid sideways on Clarke’s bed and spoken in fairly basic french about nothing in particular, then Niylah had gotten dressed and went home.

When they'd finished, Clarke’s mood greatly brightened, she’d sat out in the common room. She’d watched as a girl left Murphy’s room, and he’d joined her, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. As they sat, they saw another girl, Roma, the one Clarke had seen him with earlier, sneak out of Bellamy’s room. 

Bellamy had come out after, running his hand abashedly through his curls. Clarke and Murphy had laughed raucously at him. They’d all high-fived in a somewhat bizarre show of solidarity and stayed up till all hours of the morning making fun of each other and having a good time.

Clarke wasn't going to be the person who claimed sex made everything better, but it sure did wonders in the short-term.

****

Surging forward, Clarke pulled off the last of her clothes, moving backwards with Roan onto his bed. His hands ran appreciatively over her skin, his voice muttering empty compliments as he dropped kisses over her body. Clarke wrapped a hand in his long hair as he sucked hard at the base of her jaw. She moaned quietly as he pressed deeply inside her.

Her mind flitted back to another time, another set of lips moving across her skin. A big hand that had come to rest firmly, possessively across her throat, and her own sharp intake of breath. Bellamy’s eyes, dark and full of wonder, as he’d watched as her spine arched in pleasure. _You like that, don’t you?_

Clarke shook off the memory and tried to reengage with Roan. It was probably not good form to zone out during sex, and especially bad to think of fucking someone else.

When they were finished, Roan kissed her fondly on the cheek, rolled over, and promptly fell asleep. Clarke waited a few minutes to make sure he was fully out before slipping silently out of the bed. 

She dressed quickly, zipping up her dress and gathering her shoes in one hand. A glance in Roan’s mirror revealed horrendous sex hair and slightly smudged make-up. Clarke ran her fingers through her hair and wiped below her eyes before sighing and giving up, slipping out the door.

Clarke faced the door, pulling it shut as quietly as possible. As she turned to leave, she was stopped solidly in her tracks by a familiar voice.

“Clarke?”

She grimaced and turned to face him. “Bellamy. Hi.”

His eyes were full of concern and she tried to kept her face neutral. “Are you okay? Do you need—” He stopped, his face growing red as he finally pieced together her tangled hair, her unworn heels, the red marks coloring her throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” She laughed uncomfortably. “So what are you doing here?”

Bellamy gestured toward the door next to Roan’s, not quite meeting her eyes. “That’s my room.”

Clarke swore internally. She knew this floor seemed familiar, but had failed to place it in the midst of her make-out induced frenzy. “Right, sorry.”

He shifted unsteadily. “So uh— how was your night?” 

Clarke’s eyebrows lifted and Bellamy grimaced, sputtering. “Sorry, I didn’t— what I meant was: how have you been?”

“Good.” Clarke’s eyes narrowed, her face tight.

“Good, that’s… good.” Bellamy looked like he wanted to say more, but was struggling with it. Clarke decided it was probably time she left before he found the words.

“Goodnight, Bellamy.” 

He nodded. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

She turned and made her way down the hall, heels and phone clutched in one hand. 

“Clarke.” Halfway down the hall already, she stopped and turned back toward him. His voice was low and his eyes were dark. “You look really nice tonight.”

He smiled tightly at her and disappeared into his room. Clarke remained still for a moment, alone in the quiet of the hallway. 

_You like that, don’t you?_ Her mind whispered traitorously.

She shook her head once, incredulous, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllooooo again folks! 
> 
> So uh, fuck that finale right? Like, it was good and I may or may not have cried, but also, for fucks sake let Bellamy and Clarke love each other, good god.
> 
> hope u liked this new chapter. I liked writing it. I also hated writing it. Odd how that happens. 
> 
> I also might might maybe could add more chapters. I'm a little worried that the schedule I had planned out seems a little rushed, but we'll see. 
> 
> please shoot me a kudo or a comment if you enjoyed. or don't and allow me to suffer. either way.
> 
> love ya
> 
> ALSO: Am i allowed to put a quote from the like climax of this story (that obvi hasn't been posted yet) in the summary? It's just like a real good one but idk it probs won't be until at least chapter 6


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Madi! Where is she?” 
> 
> “I don’t know; why would I have seen her?” She went to shove him again and he clasped a hand around each of her wrists, pulling her into his chest. 
> 
> “She saw you! She’s here but she said she took something and I can’t find her and she needs me!” She struggled against him, angry tears falling, but he held tight. Slowly she went limp, her struggles giving way to sobs, and he released her wrists, one hand coming up to stroke through her hair. 
> 
> “We’ll find her, okay, Clarke? I’ll help you find her.” His voice was gentle, reassuring. “Just breathe.”
> 
> ****  
> Clarke gets a concerning call, Madi is nowhere to be found, and an uneasy detente is formed.

If there was one thing (and if Clarke was honest there were actually many, many things) Clarke hated about college, it was assignments that were due on weekends. Like yes, she could do them ahead of time and still go out at night, but who did the professors think she was? A good student?

She was four questions into a nine question problem set for physics and she was already regretting so many of her life choices. Her frosh had gone out already, begging her to come with them, but she had had to decline. And while logically, she should blame herself for fucking around throughout her shift the day before instead of doing her work like she’d intended, but wasn’t it that much easier to blame her teacher for making it due at 9 AM on a Sunday? It was honest to god cruelty, Clarke decided.

Feeling her phone vibrate, she sighed and tossed her book back onto the foot of the bed. Rolling back into her pillows, Clarke picked up the phone.

“What’s up, Madi? Having a good time yet?” The line was silent for a beat and Clarke sat up, worried. “Madi?”

“Clarke,” Madi slurred. “I have five percent.”

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “Of what?”

“Of phone. I’m drunk.”

“Are you okay? Where are you?”

Madi hummed for a second. “Not sure. You said to have fun so I got drunk but then I felt bad and they said I should take a… I should take… something. A word, you know? So I did but now I can’t find anybody.”

Clarke clutched the phone tighter. “Take what, Madi? What did you take?”

The younger girl huffed. “You know what. Those things, you know? That people take. I’m so tired, you know? But I just need a phone charger.”

“Madi, where are you? I’m going to come get you, alright?” Clarke was already rushing about her room, shoving her arms into her jacket while holding her phone against her ear with her shoulder. 

“Can’t remember, too tired. Maybe I need a human charger, get it? I'm gonna... I gotta take another one.” 

Clarke stopped, her eyes wide. “Madi, don’t take anything. Where are you?”

Madi sighed. “You don’t get it, Mom. It’s all cool. No worries.”

Clarke was getting more desperate. She could feel her palms start to grow hot and itchy and her heart start to beat faster. This conversation was beginning to feel too familiar. “Please, Madi, don’t!”

She groaned. “I’m so fine, Clarke. Hey, have you ever seen a boy drink out a shoe before? That one you and Rae were talking about, the hot one with all the hair, he did it and it looked gross but I was—”

Her voice cut off and then phone beeped, indicating the call had been dropped. She tried to call her back but each time it went straight to voicemail. Clarke was frantic. She had no idea what Madi could have taken, but she had been talking about Bellamy shooting the boot at a rugby party, Clarke was sure.

Not bothering to even lace her shoes, Clarke rushed down campus to the rugby apartment, her heart sitting high in her throat and she struggled to maintain some semblance of calm.

Bursting through the door, Clarke searched the crowd. She caught a glimpse of Bellamy's face and immediately was in front of him, shoving him back with two hands planted firmly on his chest. 

“Where is she?”

Clarke’s voice was wild, tears spiking in the corners of her eyes. Bellamy looked at her in shock. “What— who, Clarke?”

“Madi! Where is she?” 

“I don’t know; why would I have seen her?” She went to shove him again and he clasped a hand around each of her wrists, pulling her into his chest. 

“She saw you! She’s here but she said she took something and I can’t find her and she needs me!” She struggled against him, angry tears falling, but he held tight. Slowly she went limp, her struggles giving way to sobs, and he released her wrists, one hand coming up to stroke through her hair. 

“We’ll find her, okay, Clarke? I’ll help you find her.” His voice was gentle, reassuring. “Just breathe.”

Bellamy pulled back and took out his phone, typing quickly. “I’ll ask the group chat if anyones seen her. She’s the dark haired frosh, right?”

Clarke nodded, swiping her fists across her eyes to wipe away the tears, trying to regain her composure.She pulled in a deep stuttering breath, eyes closing, and then let it out slowly, smoothly. “We should check the bedrooms and bathrooms. If she felt sick she probably wouldn’t have stayed in the main party.” 

Bellamy nodded gently, his eyes searching across her face. He reached for her again, but she drew back, arms clasping around herself protectively. His hand dropped limply in the air.

“Clarke—“ A sharp ringtone cut him off.

Bellamy slid his phone out of his pocket and answered it, his eyes still lingering on Clarke. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. His face grew less tense and Clarke felt her heart jump. 

“Alright, thanks dude, we’ll be right up.” Closing the phone, he smiled at Clarke and nodded at her silent question.

“Where is she?” She asked, her voice high.

Bellamy chuckled and started towards the stairs, gesturing for Clarke to follow. “Not quite sure how she got there, but one of the guys found her in their bathtub on the fourth floor. He says she was asleep but seems fine.” 

Clarke pushed past him, bounding up the stairs. At the top, one of the rugby players saw her wild eyes and wordlessly pointed to a door with a sheepish expression. 

Clarke glared. “If anything is wrong with her, you guys are dead.”

She burst through the door. Madi was lying in the bathtub with her feet up, looking disheveled but in one piece. Clarke threw herself to the ground next to the tub and frantically grabbed at Madi’s wrist, searching for a pulse. She squeezed her eyes shut, counting in her head.

A small hand came up and patted her gently on the cheek. Clarke’s eyes flew open and Madi smiled back at her crookedly. “Hey, Clarke, you came out!”

Clarke let out a short laugh, choking down tears. “Just for your, Mads.”

She felt Bellamy’s presence arrive at the door, but she didn’t acknowledge him, all her energy focused on the girl in front of her. “I’m gonna take you home, but I need to know what you took, Madi.”

Madi looked confused. “Took what?”

Clarke let out an exasperated sigh. “What you took. On the phone you said you took something. Was it a pill? Do you know who gave it to you?”

“I didn’t take any pills. No pills here. No drugs for me, just booze and fun.” 

“But you said you took something,” Clarke said insistently. “You told me someone told you to take something and that you did and then your phone died.”

“Oh! Right.” Madi’s eyes lit up. She laughed and patted Clarke on the cheek again, while Clarke tried desperately not to get frustrated with her. 

“So? Do you remember what they told you to take?”

“Yeah, dummy.” Madi laughed again. “I was all drunk and tired so they told me I should take a nap.”

“A nap?” Clarke repeated, her voice flat. Madi nodded, and behind them Bellamy let out an involuntary chuckle. Clarke deflated, pressing one hand to her forehead as all the tension drained from her body like a balloon with a leak. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

****

Bellamy had always been protective to a fault.

Their first year, when they were all living together, Clarke had been getting these coughing fits. She still didn’t know had brought them on, but sometimes she’d just start coughing and coughing until she couldn’t breathe, and wouldn’t be able to stop for a while. Bronchospasms, the doctor called them.

One night while Clarke and Raven and the boys were hanging out in the common room drinking, Clarke had felt one coming on, so she’d retreated to her room. It was a worse one than normal, and she was on her knees on the floor when Bellamy had burst in.

_Are you okay? Are you throwing up?_  He’d asked, his voice and eyes wild with concern, standing over her, hands fluttering. 

The fit let up just as he asked it, and Clarke had stood with a withering glare. There were few things she disliked more than being accused of a sloppy drunk, after a bad experience with some moonshine at a Unity Day party in high school. _Do you see any puke, dumbass?_

He'd sputtered and hovered and offered excuses, but Raven had come in and pushed him out, rolling her eyes and telling him she’d deal with it. Her and Clarke had sat on Clarke’s bed, their backs against the wall. 

_You just coughing?_ Raven had asked. Clarke nodded. _Idiot._

Now Clarke had an inhaler. Clarke wasn’t sure, but she thought that was the first time Bellamy had been in her room.

He lingered now, in the doorway, as Clarke pulled off her jacket. “You okay?”

They had just finished putting Madi to bed, leaving the surprisingly only mildly drunk frosh in the capable hands of the designated sober sitter.

She sent him a sharp glance. “I’m fine. I could’ve gotten her back just fine on my own.”

Bellamy gave her a small smile. “I’m sure you could’ve. But it’s okay to let people help sometimes.”

“I’m fine with help from other people, but I don’t need it from you,” she spit back, wrenching her off her shoes with more power than necessary. One of them hit the wall with a thump, and Clarke stared at it in confusion, her anger draining away. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Thank you for helping, I don’t know if I would’ve found her without you.”

She turned away from him, not wanting him to see her face. Whether from exhaustion or stress, she felt tears start to build up behind her eyes. Bellamy stepped further into the room, timidly, as if trying not to spook an animal. “You don’t have to be okay, Clarke.”

She clenched her eyes tight. “I’m fine. It was just a lot, with the whole mystery drug thing that ended up to be a fucking nap and the not knowing how to find her.”

He was right behind her now, and she could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He’d always run warm, she remembered unwillingly. “Was it—“ He started gently, “It it worse because of your mom?”

Her heart jumped hard into her throat. She’d forgotten just how much he knew about her, about her life and her family. Of fucking course she’d told him about her mother’s drug problem. What didn’t she tell him? “Clarke?”

She shrugged, still not turning towards him. “Can we not do this please?”

“Do what?” Bellamy asked softly. He reached out for her elbow but she shook him off. “Clarke—“

He watched, his eyebrows furrowed, as Clarke moved away. “We’re not friends anymore, Bellamy.” She threw her hands in the air and spun towards him exasperatedly. “We haven’t been friends for a while.”

“I know that,” he said softly. “But maybe we could be.” His eyes were too intense for his tone, and Clarke looked away. Bellamy cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting. He shoved them into his pockets. “Anyways, you don’t have to decide now.”

He made his way out and stopped in the doorway. His hair was haloed in the yellow light of the hallway, so much brighter than the twinkle lights in Clarke's room. She tried not to notice how beautiful he was. “See you around, Clarke.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. Bellamy smiled at her, and left.

Clarke groaned and threw herself backwards onto her bed. She landed hard on her forgotten book, and the paper of her problem set crinkled under her. She groaned again. _Jesus Christ, Clarke,_ she thought.  _Get your fucking life together. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while! I would apologize but who cares! It'll be done when it's done and while this chapter took me like four months to write, as the kids say, done is good. And finally this story is getting somewhere.
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long, but no fucking promises, honestly.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> PS For some unknown reason the update for this didn't go to the top of the tag even though I know the other stories had been up for a while. If anyone has any advice and or knows why this is happening lemme know


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time she saw Bellamy was two days later. She was eating lunch with Raven and he just came over and sat with them, as if that was a thing that they did.
> 
> “How are you guys?” He asked, as if everything was normal and Clarke had not just stepped into a parallel universe.
> 
> “Good,” she replied, probably lying.
> 
> ****  
> Clarke and Bellamy hang out more than once, somehow without major incident.

Becoming friends with Bellamy again didn’t happen all at once, and honestly, Clarke didn’t do it on purpose. And yet, somehow, it happened anyways.

Coming back from winter break, Clarke had just decided to stop avoiding him at all costs, as clearly Bellamy had decided the same. Given the amount of mutual friends they shared, this led to considerably more interaction than she had assumed, but it was bearable.

One night at a party, he just came up to her and said hi, effortlessly ingratiating himself into a conversation she had been having with Murphy and Raven. Clarke flushed, unsure of how to react.

She figured it was sort of like when she was running a call on the ambulance and they got something truly fucked up; nobody else is freaking out, so she can’t freak out either. And she didn’t.

After the party they all went to Bellamy’s room, getting high with some of the rugby boys. Clarke felt wildly uncomfortable and out of place next to Raven, perched on the edge of Bellamy’s bed.

Was it weird that she was there? Clarke felt like it was weird that she was there. She added to the conversation but she carefully phrased everything to not speak directly to Bellamy, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

Murphy started to climb up onto the bed and on instinct she yanked him down. “Don’t step on the bed with your damn shoes on!”

She didn’t so much see Bellamy look over at them as feel it. “Dude,” he exclaimed. “Stop getting dirt all over my sheets.”

Clarke flushed again and took another hit.

At some point, they ended up in the basement playing 21 cup pong. Somehow Bellamy got assigned to drink all the cups she made, but at that point she didn’t even care. Clarke was the perfect type of high, giggly and happy and unable to wipe a grin off her face. 

Murphy threw his arm around her shoulders. “Alright, Clarke, now I’ve told all these boys how good you are at pong, don’t make me a liar.” 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her across the table. They all had played so much pong together freshman year, and she had perhaps occasionally gone on streaks of being absolutely amazing and maybe kinda bragging about it too much. That said, Murphy would occasionally cheat by putting cups back in and hoping nobody noticed, and if properly inebriated Bellamy would attempt to distract the other team by oh-so-casually lifting up his shirt to show off his abs, so it’s not like she was the only one being stupid.

The pressure to live up to her own boasts got to her until it didn’t and belatedly Clarke realized she should probably stop hitting cups, if only for Bellamy’s sake. He gracefully begged off after one game, going up to his room, but Raven demanded a rematch and another boy eagerly jumped in to take Bellamy’s place.

“Is it weird that this is what our social life is like now?” Clarke called out across the table, sinking another cup.

Raven shrugged, her eyes never leaving the target. “Who cares, Griffin?” Her shot hit rim and bounced off, and she swore. “We’re second semester seniors; it’s our fucking party.”

Clarke caught her ball as it sailed over the cups and flicked it back immediately. It bounced once and went in. Bellamy’s replacement sighed heavily.

“That’s two,” Raven said, pushing another cup towards him. 

“Should’ve fucking listened to Murphy,” the boy grumbled.

Clarke grinned broadly.

Two games later and it was definitely bedtime for everyone. Clarke yawned.

“Has anybody seen my coat?” She asked, looking in all the usual places.

Raven turned in the stairwell, head framed in light. “Did you leave it in Bellamy’s room?”

“Shit. Could you maybe—“

“Absolutely not, I have to go fuck my boyfriend.”

Clarke swore again and spun around. “Murphy!”

He groaned, chucking the last of the beer cans into the recycling and making his way towards the stairs. “Fine, but you have to come with me.”

Clarke bounced up the stairs behind him. “God bless you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

They came to a stop outside Bellamy’s room and Murphy threw open the door without knocking. Bellamy was fully clothed, asleep atop his covers with the lights dimmed but still on. 

Murphy stood back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, where is it?”

Clarke looked. “I don’t— oh, shit.” She pointed at Bellamy’s knees, where a small chunk of her coat could be seen peeking out from under his legs. “Found it.”

“Well?” Murphy asked grumpily. “Aren’t you going to get it?”

She glared at him. “I’m barely on speaking terms with the dude. You really think I want to pull my coat out from under him and potentially wake him up? You think he won’t think that’s weird as hell?”

“Fine.” Murphy huffed, reaching for the coat. “But he really wouldn’t care.”

Clarke ducked behind the doorway, waiting for Bellamy to wake up. He didn’t, and Murphy shoved her coat in her face as he exited. “Here.”

She chewed her lip, lingering by the door. “Aren’t you gonna check on him?”

“What?”

Clarke shrugged, exasperated. “Just shake him and make sure he’s alive.”

Murphy sighed and stalked past her back into the room. From her place behind the door, she heard as he shook Bellamy by the shoulder. 

“Dude, you alive?” 

She heard a smack and the muffled sound of covers ruffling. “Fuck off, Murphy.”

Murphy walked back out, rubbing his shoulder. “He’s alive. Let’s go home.”

****

The next time she saw Bellamy was two days later. She was eating lunch with Raven and he just came over and sat with them, as if that was a thing that they did.

“How are you guys?” He asked, as if everything was normal and Clarke had not just stepped into a parallel universe.

“Good,” she replied, probably lying. 

And somehow it just kept happening. She made dinner at Murphy’s on Saturday nights, Murphy asked if Bellamy could come. Raven asked her to smoke weed, neglecting to mention they were doing it in Bellamy’s room again. Monty and Harper invited her bowling, and there he was. Again and again and again.

And weirdly, it became comfortable. Maybe they weren’t friends, but they could hang out in the same group. They could hold a conversation. 

Would Clarke sit with him at dinner if they were both alone? Fuck no. But if she were with somebody else she might.

She asked Raven about it one Sunday, as they sat hungover at brunch. “Do you think it’s weird we somehow end up hanging out with Bellamy every time we go out?”

“No,” she replied. “And take your sunglasses off, you look like an asshole.”

Clarke groaned but pulled them off. She held her water glass up to her forehead to cool her feverish skin. “I feel like I should not be hanging out with him as much as I am.”

Raven shrugged and put her head on the table, slumping over in her chair. “Why not? You’ve been over him for a while. It's not like hanging out is gonna kill either of you.”

Clarke nodded slowly. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Raven said. “Now can we please stop talking before I hurl in the dining center?”

Clarke patted her gently on the head. “No.”

****

“New quarter starts today, Clarke!” exclaimed Vera, Clarke’s painting professor. “A whole new batch of young artists!”

Clarke mustered up a smile. “I’m sure it will be great.”

Normally, Clarke loved being a TA for the intro art classes. She loved her professor, and got paid to basically take attendance and do her own art, only occasionally being asked do demonstrate a technique or help a student. Today, however, she was in a mood, and she found Vera’s ever present optimism grating.

Clarke always got like this on her birthday. When she was little, her dad would make a whole big deal of it, with pancakes in the morning and a special dinner and presents. Wells would come over, and he always wanted to lick the icing off the bottom of the candles. Now they were both dead, and her birthday just reminded her of that.

Even though she knew what was going to happen, she always got so excited in the days leading up, and then little things would fall apart and she’d spend the whole day miserable. 

This year, her mom had mailed her a birthday card three weeks early and she’d waited till today to open it, only to find a card with a puppy wearing a party hat and a check for $100. The card was unsigned. She’d texted Murphy and Raven and a few other friends to see if they wanted to go to dinner or something, but everyone was busy with midterms, and it was a Tuesday. 

She sat in her corner as the class filed in, listening without looking up from her project as they dragged stools across the floor and dropped backpacks. Vera clapped her hands excitedly, quieting the room.

“Alright everyone, welcome to Foundations of Drawing! We only have a little bit of time together but I know already, we’re going to have a great quarter.” Clarke zoned out a Vera did her spiel and went over the syllabus.

“—our TA Clarke Griffin will take attendance!” Clarke’s head shot up and Vera looked back at her, nodding expectantly. “Clarke? The roster?”

Flustered, Clarke apologized, scrambling for the paper. “Right, sorry guys! Alright, I’m gonna call out the names I have and you can just say here. If I don’t call your name it’s because you aren’t registered so just let me know and we’ll figure it out.”

Clarke looked down at the list. “Charlotte Andrews?”

“Here.”

“Bree Banks?”

“Here.”

Clarke looked at the next name and stuttered slightly, looking up at the students. “Bellamy Blake?”

A hand went up and her gaze slid over to him. He looked looked very out of place, bigger and older and jockier than any of the other students, who were mostly freshman girls. He smirked a little. “Here, princess.”

Her eyes narrowed and she paused for a second, then looked back at her list.

“Kara Cooper?”

After class, she pulled him aside. “What are you doing?”

He grinned. Clarke frowned back. “What does it look like? I’m taking an art class.”

Clarke sighed heavily. “Yes, but why?”

“I enjoy drawing things?” He said unconvincingly.

Bellamy shrugged and Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since I need a half credit studio or performing art for my major.”

Clarke snorted. “Now that, I can believe.”

He hung around as she gathered up her stuff. “This won’t be a problem will it? Like you’re not gonna fail me as some sort of very belated revenge or something? I don’t want to invade your space.”

“Yeah, right.” Clarke laughed. “If anything I’d feel obligated to grade you too high, but honestly I don’t have much pull over anything but attendance.”

They made their way out of the building. The class was a night class, 7-10, and the campus was dark and quiet as they walked up the path. “What is the moral code on TAing anyways?” Bellamy asked. “Like if you’re friends with a student do you have to resign?”

Clarke let out a choked laugh. “No, I daresay not.”

“And why not?” He teased. “Did you have a sweeping romance with a TA student?”

“No, but I fucked my french TA sophomore year and he certainly didn’t quit.”

Bellamy stopped still for a second and Clarke looked back at him, confused. “Ah,” he said stiffly, starting to walk again. “And who was that?”

Clarke knocked her shoulder against his. “None of your goddamn business, loser.”

He knocked hers back. “If you’re gonna be rude I’m just gonna assume I will be receiving an F minus.”

“Again, couldn’t even if I wanted to.” They came to a stop as they reached Clarke’s dorm. “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

He smiled. “Goodnight.” He started down the steps, then stopped, facing her again. “Hey Clarke?”

She looked back at him, confused. “Yeah?”

“Happy Birthday.”

Bellamy grinned up at her before turning again to go. Clarke froze for a second then called out. “Hey, wait!”

He turned back. “What’s up?”

Clarke bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting. “What are you up to right now?”

“Nothing I guess.”

Clarke could feel her heart jump to her throat, knew it was a mistake, knew he would say no and yet— “Wanna hang out?”

“Hang out?” he asked slowly, his eyebrows drawn. “Like… right now, just us?” 

“Yeah,” Clarke said offhandedly, acting much more nonchalant than she felt. “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

She cursed herself even as she said it. Clarke watched as his eyes brightened and he smiled broadly back at her. Her stomach clenched. 

_This is a bad idea,_ her heart said. 

_It’s a little too late for that,_ Clarke replied.

“Yeah,” Bellamy said, his grin blinding. “We are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in one sitting and have not yet proofread it, lol. I also very much should not have written it and instead should have written my thesis, but it be like that sometimes.
> 
> Some events in this chapter (not the last scene lol) inspired by some very weird interactions recently had with the progenitor of Bellamy's villainous background, who I never thought I'd talk to again. College, man. Weird time.


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